Freedom
by impulsesbulky
Summary: A short oneshot on Bane's possible thoughts/POV when he helped Talia climb from The Pit, after the injuries he sustained and when he himself finally found freedom.


Freedom had been something he'd long since stopped dreaming about. Dreaming and hoping got you nowhere, but disappointed and dead if you let it consume you. He'd been a child, maybe eight or nine years of age, when he'd let the visions of freedom leave him. They'd been stamped out in the darkness.

When he'd lifted Talia, watched her climb to freedom, even as he uttered his final goodbye to her he did not allow himself to dream of freedom for himself. Too many hands to count were on him, bodies of men overtaking him. When he'd shut his eyes as they began to tear him apart, the only vision he had was that she was safe. This place hadn't taken her innocence. He'd saved that.

As they tore him apart, his eyes had remain closed, holding only to that last image of Talia. He resigned himself to death then, no delusions of freedom. This wasn't a failure, he'd succeeded in saving her and that was enough. He could let his body go and be rid of this place and this life with a free heart and mind.

It hadn't, however, been that simple. He'd _lived_. Despite being ripped apart and mauled, he did what he always seemed to do. He endured no matter the pain or the cause. His eyes had eventually opened back up sometime later, Talia gone and his body a ruined mess. His hand had come up to his face, bandages and blood covering most of it. Dark eyes closed, swallowing as he attempted to breathe in through the agonizing pain. Once again this place had taken another piece of him. He would never look normal again. He was forever scarred and marked.

Not long after he'd finally woke, the doctors seemed to take some ounce of pity on him. Though, if they'd had any heart they'd have mercy killed him and he'd have allowed it. Death would have been more inviting to him then than the excruciating agony his body was left in. There was not a single moment that he didn't feel pain then.

The doctors took it upon themselves to work on him. A way to keep the pain at bay for him was devised. Under the bandages, an early form of the mask was fitted to his face, delivering to him a stream of anesthetics and pain killers. Finally, he began to feel some sort of relief.

It was after he was fitted with an early, primitive form of his mask that he'd been sitting alone in the Pit. Days and nights bled together. He no longer kept track of them. What would be the point? He hadn't even remembered or cared how much time had passed. He simply sat by himself, breathing in and out, as he adjusted to the medication and what it did to his nearly broken body.

Even then, freedom had not been something he'd thought for himself. He only worked to endure as he always had. He would adjust and he would make those responsible for what had happened to him pay. If he was going to be stuck here for the rest of his life, he would not lie down and die without a fight. He would make an impact here.

His eyes were closed, lost in a state of near meditation when he heard voices and footsteps he did not recognize. Dark eyes opened to take in a man he had never seen before. His body stiffened and he was prepared to fight, but the man didn't want that. He looked at him almost as one might look at a monster, but Bane couldn't blame him much for that. What was he if not a monster?

The man inspected the primitive mask, murmuring under his breath. A promise had been made to give him something that would work better. All he had to do was follow the man down his path. _The League of Shadows_. With the League came a word he hadn't thought of for himself since he was a child — _freedom_.

Bane weighed his options, not knowing the man or trusting him but seeing something there that he felt he'd seen before. Something in the man's eyes was familiar to him. He'd agreed and that day, under the lead of Ra's Al Ghul, Bane was pulled from the Pit.

The sun hitting his skin completely for the first time, he blinked hard. It was warm. Everything was bright. The light. He was finally seeing the world for the first time. _Free._

That's when he heard her. That voice. No matter her age, he would know her anywhere. _Talia_. He dropped to his knees in the sand, his eyes on her. Would she — _could she_ — ever know him like _this_? Part of him wished that she wouldn't. He would rather her remember him as he was.

Bane did not move, tears forming in his eyes as he breathed in deep through his mask. He watched her move for him, the little girl older now. He saw that slight flicker of recognition in her eyes, the tiny twitch of her lips that was undetectable to most, but a smile to him. Both of her hands came up to gently cup around his bandaged face. She did not have to speak. He knew in that moment that she'd come back for him. He'd helped her to freedom and in return, she came back to give him his.

This was why he was still alive. He endured hell because his purpose was not over. He still had work to do, worth to him and more to learn. In that moment, his resolve strengthened. Constant pain and mauled body or not, it did not matter. He fought. He lived. He would thrive.

Freedom was more than he ever dreamed it could be even as a child. Bane would not waste it, either. He would take charge.


End file.
